


Cold Blood Cannot be Worked into a Fever

by StealthKaiju



Series: Reflections on Ice and Darkness [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Author Continues to Bring Shame to their Family, Courtship, Jack Has Issues, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: 'Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water' Emily BrontëSo Jack kissed Pitch.Now what?





	Cold Blood Cannot be Worked into a Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so honestly I thought I would write that one story, but this is spiraling out of control.
> 
> This makes a lot more sense if you read the first part of this series. Please check it out. I'll wait.
> 
> Unbeta'd, any mistakes my fault.

It was a kiss. He had just been kissed.

 

It was fleeting, quicker than a heartbeat, soft as mist; still a kiss. Long enough for his stomach to entangle than straighten out again; for a shivery heat to travel up and down his spine.

 

 He had just been kissed.

 

By the time Pitch had worked that out, Jack was nowhere to be seen.

 

*

 

Jack sat hiding in a tree hollow by his lake, arms folded around himself. He hadn’t known he was going to kiss Pitch until he found himself doing it. Had felt Pitch’s lips on his. Unconsciously he lifted a finger to his own mouth, remembering the softness and the barest taste of wood smoke.

 

He hugged himself tighter, making himself as small as possible. Blood pumped in his ears, and he tried to remember how to breathe.

 

Why had he done that?

 

Jack pushed his head between his knees, and laughed mirthlessly (the sound of cracking ice). He knew _why_ he had done it. He never thought he’d have been so stupid as to _actually_ _kiss Pitch_.

 

He could hear a snuffling in the branches above him, and the trills of some very determined birds, already straining to have their dawn chorus heard above the murmurs of the traffic of the nearby road. He opened his eyes and stood up.

 

He could always hide. Fly to the North Pole and hide in North’s workshop. Except the bustle and the busyness did not suit him – as much as he loved the clamour and chatter of children, too much noise and he felt overwhelmed – and he did not want to have to explain to any of the other Guardians why he was neglecting his monitoring of Pitch.

 

Besides, he owed Pitch an apology. For kissing him. And running away.

 

*

 

Pitch had retreated back to his lair like a spooked animal, and began pacing.

 

Why had Jack kissed him? What was he up to? Was it some type of trick?

 

Paranoia and self-loathing caused his throat to close up, and his attendant shadows twitched with a nervous jitter.

 

Had it been a joke? Was Frost off somewhere, laughing at him? Were the others… were the others in on the joke? Were they all laughing at him?

 

Bile in his throat, Pitch slumped into a corner, body and shadows folding over each other like a closing sea anemone.

 

Hidden.

 

Safe.

 

Alone.

 

*

 

Jack walked through Pitch’s lair, a small frost light in his hands.  There was an echo of his footsteps and his occasional calls to Pitch, but no other sounds.

 

He wandered for hours. Possibly days. But he didn’t need sleep, and he wouldn’t leave until he had apologised.

 

Jack’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and he eventually found Pitch. Two ash-black eyes met his, and the shadows slowly unfolded as Pitch loomed over him, teeth bared.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack whispered, holding his hands out, palms up in supplication. ‘I’m so sorry.’

 

Pitch hissed and his eyes became slits. ‘You meant to make fun of me?’

 

‘No!’ cried Jack. ‘I’m sorry for kissing you.’

 

‘That abhorrent was it?’

 

‘No!’ Jack ran his hand through his hair, tugging at it nervously. He bit his lip. ‘No, that… that was the nice part.’ He shuffled on his feet. ‘I meant I’m sorry for kissing you without… I don’t know… your permission. And freaking out and running away. That was a jerk move.’

 

Pitch crossed his arms. ‘Extremely childish,’ he spat.

 

Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, it was.’

 

Pitch’s eyebrows creased together. ‘So… it wasn’t a joke?’

 

Jack looked scandalised. ‘You think I would kiss you for ‘a joke’? You think I’m that cruel?’

 

‘I didn’t know what to think,’ shouted Pitch. ‘I couldn’t ask you, because YOU WEREN’T THERE!’

 

Jack sighed, eyes wide and guileless. ‘No,’ he said softly, voice raw. ‘I wasn’t. And I’m sorry. It was unfair to you. It was cowardly and cruel, and I didn’t do it to hurt you, I just got scared.’

 

Pitch rolled his shoulders back and dropped his head. The rage and confusion had just left him tired – he had been expecting some sort of mockery from Frost, angry words, physical violence, something he understood. Not this… this…

 

Without thinking he had stepped towards Jack and swept his arms around the smaller spirit, cradling him. He leaned his head to rest on Jack’s, rocking him gently as Jack sobbed into his chest. He smoothed his fingers over snow-white hair, rubbed circles into Jack’s shoulders, shushing softly. ‘Jack, hush now, it’s going to be alright,’ he whispered, along with other soothing, nonsense phrases.

 

Eventually Jack’s trembling stopped, and he quietened. Pitch found himself still holding onto him, and Jack made no move to pull away.

 

‘You can’t want me. Not really.’ Pitch told him regretfully.

 

Jack huffed. ‘You’re the only one that doesn’t treat me like a kid. Don’t start now, Pitch.’

 

Pitch pulled Jack sharply by the shoulders so they could face each other. ‘You can’t want me. It’s not… you’re…I’m –‘

 

Jack’s eyes blazed. ‘You can’t tell me what I do and don’t want, like I haven’t been thinking about you since we met!’ he growled. ‘If you aren’t interested in me, fine, I will back away and I won’t ever bother you with it, but don’t you dare think that I don’t know what I want! That I don’t know that I want you!’

 

There was silence.

 

Pitch kissed him. Jack’s lips were sweet and cold, and Pitch couldn’t get enough. The kiss began slowly, hesitantly, then Jack moved his body closer and opened his mouth, a small moan, a beautiful sound, the sweetest sound Pitch had ever heard, and Pitch moved his tongue to try and chase the sound.

 

After a few moments (hours/days/epochs – who knew? who cared?), Jack eventually pulled his head away, resting it on Pitch’s chest. ‘We should, um, probably stop. For a bit.’

 

Pitch wanted to carry on, but at the same time was terrified to. ‘Yes,’ he replied, his voice husky and slightly broken. He cleared his throat. ‘Unlike some spirits, I actually have to work to a schedule.’

 

Jack laughed, causing a shiver through Pitch. ‘Are you still okay with me tagging along?’ He sighed softly. ‘I like watching you work.’

 

Pitch raised an eyebrow. ‘You like watching me create nightmares that will inevitably scare children?’ He took a step backwards, a calculating look. ‘You really are a cold-blooded bastard, aren’t you Jack Frost?’

 

Jack scoffed. ‘Cold-blooded and cold-hearted’ he replied, a smile as beautiful as a wintry dawn but just as dangerously chill.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Any comments/feedback appreciated, even if it's just to tell me not to give up the day job.


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